


A Vision, In Red and Black

by jg291



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Marius never sleeps anymore, ghost!Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:58:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jg291/pseuds/jg291
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The vision of Enjolras started walking toward Marius, who was now standing, gripping himself up against the wall by his bedside. Marius heard the soft scuttle of footsteps, watched the shadow from the moonlight following the figure walking toward him. </p>
<p>And then the thing put its – his – hand on Marius’s chest, rising it rise and fall as Marius gasped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vision, In Red and Black

**Author's Note:**

> This is a movie characterization. I’m new to the fandom – in fact, this is my first fic. I haven’t actually read the brick (will read as soon as finals stop being terrible), so forgive me if I make any small details mistakes!
> 
> Inspired very vaguely by one of Aaron Tveit’s “Next to Normal” numbers.

Marius wasn’t sleeping. Of course he wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t really slept since he woke up in a bed, confused on how he got there, with the memory of the barricade and his friends all around him, all alive. He was to marry his beloved tomorrow, thankfully. He was excited to be married to her, of course he was.

But really, what he was excited about was to be moving out of the apartment he shares – shared - with Courfeyrac. Marius made the mistake of coming home alone just once to the apartment after a night of drinking, and he was convinced he saw Courf’s dead, bloody body sprawled out over the armchair. 

So yeah, would you sleep with that vision haunting you every time you came home? You probably wouldn’t. 

Marius tossed and turned, waiting for the dawn to come for a new chapter in his life to finally begin. And then, by the window, he saw in vision in – of course – a red jacket and black pants.

“Hello, Marius,” the vision said, sort of gleaming in the way you’d expect your dead friend to. 

“Enjolras? But how, why are you here? Are you here? You can’t be here. I saw you at the barricade, at the end of the line, your red coat seeping with the darker red of your blood, you aren’t here, but I didn’t drink again, why are you here.” 

Enjolras smirks in a very-un-Enjolras type of way, looking at Marius with the kind of expression he’d expect to see on the face of Courfeyrac, or even Grantaire. Certainly not Enjolras. 

“Marius, slow down. We don’t have a lot of time, but we have enough such that you can use more than one breath to try to talk.”

Marius was confused. He wasn’t asleep, he couldn’t be. He didn’t sleep in this apartment, no matter how much he tried. The body looked like the leader of the failed revolution, with the coat and the curls and the infuriatingly straight posture, and the voice bordered the corners of melodious and commanding. But it couldn’t be Enjolras. 

“We’ve been watching you, you know,” Enjolras started, pausing while attempting to gather his thoughts. “Grantaire couldn’t get over the fact that you are getting married tomorrow, and have no one to throw you a bachelor party.”

“Watching? Grantaire? How do you know I’m getting married? Oh, I get it. I know I’m getting married. You must be in my head.” 

The vision of Enjolras once again got that amused expression on this face, and Marius is kind of annoyed. If he is going to see a ghost of one of his fallen friends, can’t he act least act regularly? 

“Marius, I’m real. I’m here. You can touch me if you want. I woke up after the National Guard stormed in and took Grantaire and me to our deaths. We were in the top of the Café Musain just like before, with Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Joly nearby. Everyone was there – Gavroche and Eponine even - but not you. We eventually figured out where you were – your love had saved you. 

Me, on the other hand? I let my love – Patria - down,” Enjolras’s expression turned serious, beginning to look like how it should.

“You didn’t let France down, you did the best you could. Their power was too great for us students and… wait, why am I talking to you? You aren’t real.” 

Marius, emphatic to prove that he was hallucinating, started to get up, hoping that a change in position would make the vision go away. It didn’t. 

The vision of Enjolras started walking toward Marius, who was now standing, gripping himself up against the wall by his bedside. Marius heard the soft scuttle of footsteps, watched the shadow from the moonlight following the figure walking toward him. 

And then the thing put its – his – hand on Marius’s chest, rising it rise and fall as Marius gasped.

“See, Pontmercy, you can feel me. Told you I was real,” Enjolras said, once again smirking in that new uncharacteristic way. 

“I know what my chest falls like, rising and falling. Just because I feel the sensation of your hand on my heart, doesn’t mean it’s really you.” 

Marius really, really wants to think he’s hallucinating. He can’t go crazy the night before his wedding. He just can’t.

“Fine, Marius,” says Enjolras with that wicked glint, “I’ll make you feel something you’ve never felt before.” 

And with that, Enjolras puts his lips on Marius. It’s just a quick peck and then Enjolras pulls back, but something compels Marius to go back for more. He has been so alone so for long and the vision that appeared to him might be able to make him feel whole again. So Marius licks Enjolras’s bottom lip, begging for entry, which Enjolras swiftly grants. The battle of tongues commences as Enjolras steps closing to Marius, pushing him back into the wall. 

Twisting his head in an awkward angle to breathe (of course Enjolras doesn’t have that need), Marius tries to speak. “I’ve felt kissing before, too, you know.”

“Wow, Pontmercy,” Enjolras growls, voice way, way too low for the revolution leader. “Didn’t expect you to react that way, but I’m happy to oblige.”

And then Enjolras’s hands find the top of his trousers, and start undoing the buttons. He makes a low, moaning sound when the unbuttoning gets complicated by Marius’s growing arousal. Marius moves his mouth away from Enjolras’s and finds his neck, silently cursing the red jacket for getting in the way but not wanting to take it off. But then he feels a cold sensation, and realizes that his pants have come off, and Enjolras has sunk to his knees. 

“Enjolras? The sensations you have brought to me are spectacular, really. But all this, it doesn’t seem like the single-minded leader I used to know.”

For a moment, Enjolras looks pensive. “We have a lot of free time up there. I’ve finally let Grantaire… fill some of it in the way he always wanted. I wish it could be you though. And now it is.”

Enjolras whispered the last word right as he brought his mouth to Marius’s tip. Marius gasped as the tongue went up and down, his fingers finding their way to Enjolras’s curls.

He lets Enjolras do as he pleases, glad the void he always feels is starting to be filled with fire. He moans and whines and growls and feels. 

Feels. Not empty. 

But it’s not enough. He jerks his hips away to get Enjolras to stop, and the vision looks up, confused. Marius pulls him up by the jacket, only to drag him on the bed. He needs to be filled.

Somehow, Enjolras knows what Marius wants. With Marius watching, he takes off his jacket, his shirt, his trousers in just a few swift movements.

Enjolras puts the jacket back on.

The vision brings his mouth back to Marius, colliding teeth together in a furious glory. He pulls away just to bring a few fingers to Marius’s mouth, and Marius sucks and sucks, understanding dawning on where those fingers are going to end up.

When Enjolras finishes with the fingers and really enters him, it’s a million feelings all at once. 

Pleasure, tightness, pain, joy, regret (why didn’t I do this earlier, why, will I ever get to do it again). Confusion because this incarnation of his leader isn’t what Marius knows, and didn’t realize how much he needed, but this vision of red (no more black) is everything he wishes to keep. 

He particularly cares for the feeling he gets hearing the moans Enjolras makes every time he digs in a little bit deeper, every time Marius lets him in. Their bodies can’t be any closer, and Marius feels the warmth of the slightly larger man enveloping him in every possible way.

The best feeling, though, is that with each and every thrust, Marius feels less and less empty, less and less alone.

He feels the somewhat familiar warmth spreading inside him, and then falling over his front. He comes down with a wave of sleepiness he hasn’t felt since the barricades rose, as Enjolras pulls out of him, smiling at him lazily in the moonlight as he turns him around.

\--

All of a sudden, the sun has risen. Marius can see the room clearly, but he is alone in bed. 

It is his wedding day. He is not to be alone, ever again. 

But he has not felt so alone since that time he woke up in that bed, unable to remember how he got out of the barricades, realizing none of his friends – not even the leader – were with him. But how could Marius have gotten out without his Enjolras leading the way?

This one time, he was actually asleep. The one time he wanted to be awake.


End file.
